


Mark of the Beast

by Nadare



Series: Goretober 2020 [1]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bottom Eddie Gluskin, Canon-Typical Violence, Claiming Bites, Dark Romance, Dubious Morality, Eddie Gluskin Being Eddie Gluskin, Goretober, Goretober 2020, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Necrophilia, M/M, Mental Link, One Shot, Outlast: Whistleblower, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Top Waylon Park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:06:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadare/pseuds/Nadare
Summary: Waylon Park was a rarity in the world. Bearing no soul marks of any kind, he had gone through life unattached. At least until he came to Mount Massive Asylum and heard a tortured inmate named Eddie Gluskin beg him for help. Now Waylon must make the hardest decision of his life: whether or not to accept his rather unique soulmate.
Relationships: Eddie Gluskin/Waylon Park
Series: Goretober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936807
Comments: 7
Kudos: 129
Collections: Annual AO3 Haven October Challenge: Kink Whump Fluff and Gore Bonanza 2020





	Mark of the Beast

_A/N: I would write my first Soulmate AU for this pairing. Why pick something easy? ^^;_

Prompts: Madness, Bride, Game, Perverse, Prey, Meat, Red, Devil, Soul, Mark, Home, Animal, and Cage.

[Written on and off between 8-14-20 to 9-27-20]

* * *

**_“Mark of the Beast”_ **

The number of strange things Waylon had seen while working for Murkoff was uncomfortably high. Their inhumane experiments with the asylum inhabitants were carried out with little consideration for the subjects’ well-being, solely focused on achieving results.

Waylon’s low level of security clearance restricted him from digging too deeply, but the staff around him talked freely as if they knew nothing that occurred underground would be reported for the atrocities they were.

After all, Waylon wasn’t here to understand their methods or goals, only maintain the software and servers as they continually processed the colossal load of data feeding through them.

Today his job was as simple as rebooting a camera inside a pod, tomorrow it could be debugging a problematic program for three solid hours straight.

“Help me! Don’t let them do this!”

The panicked man against the glass was pulled away, Waylon’s heart in his throat from the sudden fright. He sat back down in his chair at his employer’s urging, barely seeing his fingers work the keyboard as he finished his task.

Sharp pain flared on the underside of his forearm as Waylon was not-so-subtly directed out of the room, leaving him standing outside the lab, two security guards eyeing him from their posts outside the door.

He had just sent an e-mail, a most important one at that when they’d summoned him to the front terminal. Waylon had to get back to the laptop in the server room and finish covering his tracks.

But his arm worried him. Veering into the nearest staff bathroom, Waylon found it deserted, quickly unbuttoning the sleeve of his left arm to see if some insect had bitten him.

There along the skin on his forearm were two sentences in thick black lettering. The very same words he’d heard the patient being strapped into the observation pod say moments ago.

His blood ran cold. After so long, they couldn’t possibly be-

Soul marks.

For most people, they were present from birth in the form of the first phrase their soulmate uttered to them. Such a bond was instantaneous and unbreakable until one part of the couple died whereupon the marks disappeared on the survivor. Whether or not new ones ever appeared was a matter of luck.

Waylon had never borne soul marks of any kind, completely unburdened by the relentless search for one’s soulmate, his happiness dependent on himself. That he was less than pleased with the new development was an understatement.

Grabbing a paper towel, Waylon wet it and rubbed it against the words, hoping that somehow one of the Murkoff staff had managed to put them there when he wasn’t looking in some sort of cruel practical joke. However, the marks didn’t smudge at all, proving they weren’t temporary but permanent.

He knew if he wasn’t imagining them, then the patient, the man called Eddie Gluskin had to be his soulmate, his partner in life.

But if he was here at Murkoff, that meant he had problems, deep-seated ones that simply taking medication for wouldn’t solve. People here were locked away from the general public for good reason.

Not that they deserved to be tortured by a heartless corporation like Murkoff. What they did was beyond the pale, thinking that because they operated behind closed doors and a million NDAs that they could do whatever they pleased. Any problems could be solved with money.

Waylon threw the paper towel into the trash, putting both hands on the sides of the sink as he hung his head. It was the worst possible timing ever.

Idly, he wondered what words of his had appeared on Eddie’s arm and if the man had noticed their arrival amid all the chaos surrounding him.

Looking up into the mirror, he stared at his delicate features, ones that belied his true age and had gotten him into trouble more than once. Waylon had never been strong physically, but he was smart and fast, managing to stay out of the worst life had offered him with minor scrapes and bruises.

“What do I do?” he asked his reflection, sighing when it offered no easy answer. Waylon’s plan had always been to send the e-mail to the press, finish out his contract, and get the hell home.

But the knowledge that his soulmate was here locked away in a cruel nefarious experiment hung heavy on his shoulders. He had to do something, didn’t he?

The lights above him flared brightly, Waylon squinting as he wondered if a brownout was imminent. With the energy Murkoff was drawing off the power grid, he wouldn’t be surprised.

Seconds later, everything was dark.

Clicking his tongue, Waylon started for the door, closing his hand around the knob.

“Where is that bastard?” a rough voice hemmed with drink snarled outside the door, making him jump. “Hiding again, huh? It’ll just make things worse later.”

Another voice, a smoother one said, “Eddie never learns, does he?” Raucous laughter. “But that makes the chase it all the sweeter, don’t you think?”

He pushed open the door slightly, his statue small enough he only reached the middle of it, seeing two men with similar features who looked dirty and big, empty beer bottles piled over the kitchen.

Sick to his stomach at the implications throughout the brief exchange, Waylon let his hand fall down to his side after gently nudging the door closed as quietly as possible.

_He had a distinct feeling he’d departed reality, the scene around him hazy around the edges. The only thing that felt real was the fear curling in his veins, the hands around his small knees shaky and sweaty, dreading the instant his family realized he was hiding in the pantry mere feet away._

_It wasn’t his memory. Waylon had never cowered in the dark, afraid to get caught by others in what sounded like a sadistic game. It had to be Eddie’s. His soulmate’s. Part of his past and maybe the reason why he’d ended up in the asylum in the first place._

The scene faded away completely, leaving Waylon standing before the bathroom door, squinting in the sudden bright lights overhead. His eyes were wet, throat tight with emotions that weren’t his. Waylon took a deep breath, struggling to calm down and get a grip.

Every soulmate bond was different. Some were instant, reading each other’s minds with ease. Others never got a leg-up, having to go the traditional route to understand their partner. It seemed Waylon and Eddie’s bond ran along the former since they were able to share memories with each other.

God knew what had popped up in Eddie's head from Waylon, probably an awkward family dinner discussing why Waylon never tried to meet more people, join a team sport, or smile more.

Buttoning up his shirt sleeve again, Waylon headed back to the server room, his thoughts whirring. He hadn’t liked how closely Jeremy Blaire had been watching him of late, almost like he knew Waylon was up to no good.

The laptop was exactly where he left it. Taking a seat, Waylon began a new task. Hacking into Murkoff's patient records to find out more about his soulmate.

If Eddie was truly a lost cause, which judging from his memories so far seemed likely, then Waylon could swallow the pain of discovering he wasn’t alone in the world after all and leave Eddie to whatever became of him.

It would be the coldest thing he'd ever done in his life, but if it wasn’t meant to be, there was no need for Waylon to doom himself to a dark fate.

He'd just started into Eddie's personal file, finding there was an 11-year age difference between them when the laptop was abruptly slammed shut in front of him, nearly catching his fingers.

Jeremy Blaire stood next to the table, a triumphant smirk on his face, one hand on the back of Waylon’s laptop.

Oh, this was not good.

Never mind Eddie, Waylon was in deep shit.

* * *

Though he’d escaped from the grasp of the Morphogenic Engine, its effects nevertheless continued to plague Waylon as he gradually made his way through the chaotic asylum.

Shapes danced in his vision, his head and body aching in ways he hadn’t thought physically possible. Worse of all, Waylon knew the ghostly dark figure he’d seen kill an inmate and attempt to do him in as well wasn’t a figment of his imagination. The name Walrider lingered in his mind, Waylon unable to deny it sounded familiar somehow.

His only plans were to find Eddie and get the hell out of the asylum intact. Since the soul mark on his arm hadn’t disappeared, Waylon knew his soulmate was still alive. However, pursuing such simple goals weren’t easy when almost every person he met wanted to kill him for simply daring to exist.

All the crazy shit Murkoff had been doing on the sly for months had exploded, releasing a sort of doom cloud over the whole place that sucked in inmates and staff alike. Waylon didn’t expect to survive it, but he lived in hope.

The sight of a woman in a red dress to his right stopped him in his tracks. There were no women at the asylum, this was an indisputable fact, which meant it had to be…

“Another memory.”

_She was beautiful with vivid green eyes and short-cropped black hair, the dress she wore hugging all the right places. The one thing wrong with the picture was the look of outright terror on her face, duct tape over her mouth._

_The woman tried to kick at him when he opened the car door, but the ropes binding her wrists and ankles prevented her from doing much more than squirm on the back seat._

_“Becky, darling, you’re a vision,” Eddie said sweetly as he grasped her by the ankles and pulled her out of the car, easily placing Becky onto his right shoulder. Raving angrily, her muted speech was hardly audible._

_The woods ahead of them were dark, Eddie familiar with the terrain from previous occasions. He’d observed Becky closely before taking her, sure that the multiple men he’d seen frequent Becky’s house proved she was a whore whose absence from the world would hardly be noticed._

_And if Eddie could have a little fun at the same time, all the better._

_"You should know you brought this on yourself. If only you had kept your damn legs closed like a normal woman,” Eddie said when they came across a clearing. Gently, he placed Becky down onto the ground, her expression wild as she took in their isolated surroundings._

_Eddie retrieved the knife from the small of his back and knelt down to Becky who panicked, tears gathering in her eyes, mumbling against the duct tape._

_“Now, now, we haven’t even started yet, dear. Calm down.” He tapped the dull edge of the blade against her shoulder. “These woods are vast, but there is a farmhouse about five miles in a certain direction. Choose correctly and I might let you go._

_“But,” Eddie whispered, lowering his mouth to Becky’s ear. “No one has ever escaped me so far. I doubt you’ll succeed.” He raised his head. “Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.”_

_Becky flinched as Eddie cut her restraints, then stepped back, watching her movements. He’d had her bound for a few hours and it took Becky a few minutes to regain complete mobility._

_On her feet again, she ripped the duct tape from her mouth and glared at Eddie._

_“Fuck your game, asshole,” Becky snarled before she flung herself forward, landing a solid punch on Eddie’s face. Her other attempt to hit his chest was foiled as Eddie grabbed her wrist and squeezed hard, Becky’s face contorting in pain._

_He felt and heard something snap and Becky kicked him in the gut, getting free as Eddie hunched over. Keeping one eye open while he regained his breath, he saw her grasp at her broken wrist with her other hand._

_Looking as if she was reluctant to run but unable to help it, Becky turned and set off into the trees, the end of her red dress whipping in the wind._

_Straightening, Eddie smiled, immensely satisfied her first instinct was to fight back. He loved it when his prey provided a challenge._

Waylon tried closing his eyes for the rest of the flashback, but it wasn’t like he was viewing the event with them. No, his mind was seeing the chase and kill in full grisly detail, unable to look away. The sounds alone had him lose what little remained in his stomach.

He didn’t- no, he couldn’t reconcile the fact that his soulmate was a killer. The practiced ease in which he’d dispatched Becky spoke of past experience and anyone who could do that to someone else wasn’t someone Waylon wanted to know. 

Even resolved as he was on that point, Waylon still felt an irresistible pull, an itch to meet Eddie in the flesh again. 

This was what he hated about the world as it was.

When you bonded with another person, it was generally accepted that you would be with them. Very few were able to successfully resist the temptation to be with someone who understood them completely.

The phenomenon wasn’t even limited to the romantic side. There were also platonic, asexual, and everything else under the sun soulmates.

Only real freaks of nature like Waylon had been before tonight never received soul marks and went to their grave unbound.

For once, after seeing what Eddie’s inner nature was like, Waylon was starting to wish he’d remained so unlucky in life.

Staying still in this place was foolhardy, Waylon going on the move before another crazed patient found him again. He decided to focus on his escape and if he appeared to run into Eddie on the way, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.

Perhaps Waylon could get more of a feel for how the present-day Eddie had fared since his exposure to the Engine. 

* * *

His breath trembled in the dark, Waylon hyperaware of the man’s movement as it skirted around him in the vocational block. Just when he thought the place couldn’t get worse, it delivered even more nightmare fuel.

Even if it killed him, Waylon was not going to suffer the same fate as the inmate whose body had been mutilated and displayed as a terrible facsimile of womanhood.

Waylon shifted to his feet and moved across the room, thinking he was free and clear until-

“Darling!”

He froze, the camera in his hand falling to the floor, realizing that he recognized the voice. It was the same inmate, the one that had started the whole soul mark mess with his begging and pleading.

His soulmate Eddie Gluskin.

“Don’t touch me,” he shouted, a rare fit of anger overriding the terror Waylon felt faced with the monster in front of him. Not that he expected the man across from him to actually listen. “Please don’t touch me.”

Shock swept over Eddie’s features, his eyes nearly glowing in the darkness. Moving swiftly, Eddie yanked down his sleeve, exposing his forearm. The words Waylon had said were inked there for all to see.

Eddie smiled widely. “Waylon,” he purred, stepping closer.

That confirmed it. There was no other way he could have known Waylon’s name than through the bond that existed between them.

Waylon winced at Eddie’s outstretched hand, afraid of what would happen if they touched. Fate had already bound them as close as it could and he didn’t want to delve deeper into their bond any further.

It was beyond obvious Eddie was damaged goods. Far better to be forever pining for what could have been than be tied to a murderer.

The hurt on Eddie’s face was palpable as he eyed Waylon closely, seemingly unable to understand his fearful demeanor. “Why are you afraid of me?”

And then Eddie did the one thing Waylon had asked him not to by placing a single hand on his cheek.

He sucked in a breath as the world fell away, the mere peeks he'd had at his soulmate's past nothing compared to this.

Literally becoming Eddie Gluskin, Waylon lived the highs and lows, reconciling years of sexual abuse as a child by striking out at women, forever getting back at a mother who had abandoned him at birth until he'd been caught by the authorities.

He was eventually sentenced to the asylum as he was declared mentally unfit to stand trial where he would have stayed hidden away until he died.

Except Murkoff had come along.

Their experimentation had further unraveled Eddie's delicate state of sanity, making him a predator towards men too as he searched for a family, a place to call-

“Home,” Waylon breathed out, finding he'd reached out for Eddie's shoulders during the exchange, gripping them hard enough to bruise.

That was all Eddie wanted, his sudden need for a wife and children his way of coping with an immensely unfulfilled life. After all, Eddie hadn't been born with soul marks either, thinking fate had abandoned him too.

Against all odds, despite their vastly different upbringings, Waylon understood Eddie at his core, so empathic towards him he ached with it.

What Eddie got out of the exchange wasn’t clear until his eyes cleared, some of that mad insanity that had initially scared Waylon off when they’d first met rapidly dissipating. Reason must have felt strange to him after so long without it.

His past had been undeniably boring compared to Eddie's, born to parents who while loving him, had nevertheless pushed him towards a good career early on in life, placing value over good grades than quality family time.

Waylon had learned to fend for himself and satisfy his own needs first, then consider others. Outwardly he maintained a friendly façade, polite to a fault while inwardly Waylon was jaded, so tired of indulging in meaningless one-night stands with other unbound people.

No one wanted to commit if their soulmate could literally be around the corner and once one entered such a bond, it was permanent.

There were exceptions, outliers who rejected the idea of soulmates outright, but Waylon had always thought, however thinly, that it was comforting on long lonely nights knowing someone was out there for him.

Eddie sighed, gathering Waylon into his arms. “If love that is all you want, Darling, I would be more than happy to give it.”

Ignoring any lingering misgivings, Waylon sank into the man’s warmth, his hands clutching tightly at the thick chords of muscle in Eddie’s back, every spot Eddie had touched burning, putting all kinds of bad ideas into Waylon’s head.

Before he got carried away, he had to know if Eddie saw him as more than prey. Screwing up his courage, Waylon raised his head, meeting Eddie’s strange gaze.

Earlier that evening his eyes had been blue, but his recent exposure to the Engine had damaged them along with one side of his face. A looker he was not, though Waylon doubted he was at his best either after wading through blood, shit, and other various viscera. 

He was a bit shorter than Eddie and leaned upwards, using Eddie’s shoulder as support as he stopped an inch away from his soulmate’s mouth.

“Catch me if you can,” Waylon said, forcing himself to push Eddie away, adrenaline surging in his veins.

He fled into the darkness blindly, not out of fear but excitement, the camera he’d left behind on the floor far from his mind.

Waylon hadn’t had much of a chance to explore the area, but given he was in Eddie's territory, there was no way he was getting away.

Not that he wanted to when the mere thought of Eddie laying hands on him again was enough to make him painfully hard. The urge to let Eddie at him was a veritable hunger buzzing along his skin, instinct screaming at him to give and receive.

In a faraway place in his mind, Waylon knew he should be horrified by the notion, the likes of Eddie not his first choice for a companion, but he couldn’t turn down what Eddie represented. Right or wrong, the man offered him something no one else could.

Waylon didn’t want to lose his chance at happiness, even if his soulmate was a psychopathic serial killer. Whether it was due to his own mental instability from everything he’d experienced that evening or their soulmate bond, he didn’t care.

He had Eddie and that was all that mattered.

As he proceeded through the darkness, keeping his hands out to make sure he didn’t run into anything, Eddie began to sing, his voice surprisingly good, carrying through the air pleasantly. He made no effort to hide his presence, nor did he need to. Eddie was in his element.

Time being hard to keep track of, Waylon relocated when Eddie was close by until the anticipation proved too much for him to bear anymore.

Purposely knocking all the items off a table he’d previously been hiding under, Waylon waited with bated breath, the sudden silence that fell making him nervous.

Sensing movement behind him, Waylon began to turn until something grabbed him in the dark, driving Waylon to the floor roughly on his back. He groaned at the hand which dug fingers into the skin at the back of his neck, ragged nails scraping at him.

What could only be Eddie’s other hand pushed his right shoulder down against the floor, the light from an open doorway in the hallway casting a dim illumination over them.

Eddie was crouched between his legs, panting, his eyes alight as he gazed down at Waylon, grinning madly.

Not knowing if Eddie was in the right mental place to recognize him, Waylon used his free arm to touch Eddie’s cheek, echoing his earlier gesture.

“I could never hurt you, Darling,” Eddie purred, mischief flashing across his features, proving he’d known who he was chasing all along. “You’re far too beautiful and rare a creature.”

“Touch me more,” Waylon whispered, grunting as Eddie released the back of his neck, a shiver running down his spine.

The gentle way Eddie leaned down and kissed his forehead sent warmth into Waylon’s chest, so glad they’d managed to find each other despite everything.

Waylon pressed his face against Eddie’s chest, a sweet sickly aroma rising from Eddie’s skin. He was hot as well, a thin sheen of sweat over him. Some kind of fever? After everything Eddie had been through, that was the least of Waylon’s worries.

“Eddie.”

It was the first time Waylon ever called out his soulmate's name.

Eddie had clearly been holding himself back until that moment, pressing close to Waylon with a hungry growl, a hardness in his lower half Waylon could feel against his own.

Through their bond, Waylon knew Eddie could sense he was being honest about his desires. Likewise, Waylon could see into Eddie’s mind, viewing the surface of his thoughts.

There were still dark impulses but most of all, Eddie felt an outpouring of love for Waylon, so pleased he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Of course. Whatever you please,” Eddie replied, his voice low. “I am your humble servant.”

“Then kiss me properly.” 

Eddie’s answering smile was heartening as he closed the short distance between them, his lips soft despite the force with which he kissed Waylon, Eddie’s hand hard against the back of Waylon’s head, locking him into place as he tried to eat at everything inside Waylon’s mouth.

Barely given a chance to breathe, his knees losing strength under the onslaught, Waylon held onto Eddie, riding it out, trying to give as good as he got. He bit at Eddie’s lower lip, drawing blood, the sudden copper taste jolting Eddie into further action.

Dragging his mouth down to Waylon’s neck, Eddie dug his teeth in, holding the delicate skin there as if returning the favor.

For all his previous violence towards others, Eddie never drew blood, being extraordinarily gentle as Waylon moaned under his breath, wanting and not wanting him to take a bite.

For Eddie to claim him as his own for all the world to see.

“Do it,” Waylon urged, his voice hitching when Eddie took him as his word, the pain sharp and immediate.

The bite wasn’t deep, yet he could still feel a line of hot warmth trickle down his neck, Eddie’s hands crawling underneath his shirt.

Reaching for Eddie's pants himself, Waylon was rewarded by his efforts when he managed to grasp Eddie’s cock, the width and warmth of it surprising.

The man against him started, the fingers around Waylon’s nipples faltering as Eddie moaned low, his voice trembling.

There was a sudden look of fear in his eyes, so out of place on Eddie's large masculine figure that Waylon frowned, stilling. “Eddie?”

Focusing on him, Eddie looked…vulnerable and small.

A flash of two large figures surrounding him, their touch making him ill, even as his young body involuntarily reacted to it slashed through Waylon’s mind.

He mentally backpedaled, dropping his hands from Eddie to lean up and hug him, burying his face against Eddie's shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, I didn’t…” The words stuck in his throat for a moment. “It's okay, it's just me.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes until Eddie grabbed Waylon's hand and placed it on his cock again.

“Only you,” he vowed and immediately made Waylon's chest ache in response at the trust Eddie willingly gave him.

Eddie had never experienced tenderness from anyone else before, the concept utterly foreign to him. It seemed it was a lesson Waylon had to teach him firsthand and he was only too happy to so do.

“Only me,” he confirmed fiercely, Eddie starting to kiss him again, reversing their positions until it was Eddie who laid under him on the floor. The grunts and moans he wrestled out of Eddie just incited Waylon's passion more.

“We need lube,” Waylon said, knowing that despite his and Eddie’s enthusiasm, he refused to go further until it was safe for both of them. Going without was not an option.

Nodding, Eddie left him for a minute, then returned shortly, depositing a small bottle in his hand.

Waylon didn’t need to ask where Eddie had gotten the lube from, nor why the bottle was half-full. He’d already seen what one of Eddie’s victims on the vocational block looked like. The hole where if one desired they could enter.

The fact Eddie was capable of such an act should’ve bothered Waylon, but it didn’t. He easily put it out of his mind, concentrating on the feel of Eddie’s mouth as it swept the outer shell of his right ear. Eddie's eager hand on Waylon's own cock causing him to groan and shudder.

Emboldened, he removed Eddie's pants, moving until he was kneeling before Eddie's lower half. At the same time he took Eddie's cock into his mouth, Waylon used fingers wet with lube and pressed inside gently.

What he sought was readily found, Eddie grunting as he writhed under Waylon, showing his enthusiasm all too well. He greedily sucked the head of Eddie's cock and beyond as he flicked his fingers within Eddie, Waylon only slowing when he could sense Eddie was close to climax.

“Darling,” Eddie begged Waylon, his forehead wet with sweat. “No more.”

“You're sure?” Waylon asked after freeing up his mouth, needing to make sure before he crossed the line of no return. He refused to make light of Eddie's traumatic past.

Eddie wiggled closer until his bottom was pressing against Waylon's crotch. “Please.”

“Okay.”

Pushing down his pants and underwear low enough on his hips, Waylon drizzled lube on himself, eagerness making his hands tremble, nerves all jazzed up despite not having done much of anything.

He grabbed Eddie's hips, lining everything up, and closed his eyes as he surged forward. The moment Waylon sank himself home within Eddie, the man crying out loudly underneath him, Waylon knew he was truly lost.

It felt hot and tight. Right and just, everything Waylon had been searching for with other unbound people but couldn’t find. He mourned the time he'd spent away from Eddie until now.

Pleasure razed his nerves at the smallest movement, Waylon hard-pressed to remember the last time he’d felt so good. Struggling to maintain some semblance of control, determined to make their first time together memorable, Waylon purposely set a slow pace as he shifted back and forth, his grip tight on the undersides of Eddie’s knees.

In no time at all, Waylon was panting, Eddie’s ragged breathing a strange echo in the darkness, egging Waylon on.

His careful plans went out the window when Eddie reached out and straddled his lap, his arms tight around Waylon's shoulders.

Eddie started moving, going faster and faster as he gasped in pleasure, stoking an ever-growing fire inside Waylon. Eddie's fingers dug into his shoulders and back, the low-key pain bringing another layer of sensation to the situation.

“Eddie,” Waylon growled as Eddie purposefully squeezed down on Waylon’s cock, making his eyes all but cross in response, his restraint razor thin. “Don’t…do that.”

The tension in Waylon’s gut grew tighter, aware that a few more moves like that and he’d unravel utterly.

Eddie chuckled under his breath, looking none too apologetic about it. In revenge, Waylon stilled completely, holding Eddie's hips down, heartbeat racing like mad, everything in him urging him to finish it.

Thrusting his face against one side of Waylon's and resting it there, Eddie squirmed on top of him. He nearly whimpered in Waylon's ear, “Please.”

The strangled voice broke his resolve, Waylon managing two more strokes before his insides seized in what felt like an explosion, his vision going black for a few seconds. Eddie followed shortly behind him, all but bellowing his own finish, hot liquid painting Waylon's upper stomach.

It was all Waylon could do to breathe for a while, his legs shaky, Eddie's panting loud in the sudden silence.

When Eddie finally climbed off him, Waylon reached for him out of instinct, needing to touch Eddie once more, to know he hadn’t somehow fallen asleep and dreamed the whole encounter.

With a knowing look, Eddie settled down next to Waylon, lying fingers on his arm as Waylon grasped his knee. “Next time we'll have to do it someplace a little more comfortable than a floor.”

Waylon snorted, starting to laugh in earnest.

Of all the things he expected from Eddie, a joke was not one of them. It seemed his soulmate was full of surprises.

He looked forward to uncovering more.

* * *

“Mr. Park, how the fuck are you still alive?” Jeremy Blaire exclaimed at the entrance, his arm folded over his stomach as he gazed up at Waylon, his brow furrowed in pain, blood staining his clothing.

Smiling, Waylon stepped aside, letting Eddie's figure come into view. The look of growing horror on Blaire's face was priceless, especially when Waylon reached out and took Eddie's hand in his own.

“You meet soulmates in the most interesting of places, don’t you?” he asked, a small nugget of spite rising in him. If it wasn’t for Blaire's meddling, Waylon would have been able to leave the asylum without being plunged into a living nightmare.

Eddie squeezed his hand, a dangerous glint in his eyes, the thought in his mind definitely on the murderous side.

Shaking his head, Waylon started to walk past Blaire when the man exploded into action, a knife clutched in one of his hands. He went for Waylon and Eddie lost it, savagely kicking Blaire in the gut repeatedly.

As he huddled on the ground, Eddie hauled him up from the floor, all but choking him with one hand, Blaire's fingers desperately scrabbling at Eddie's forearm drawing blood.

For a moment, Waylon considered letting Eddie finish Blaire, the sight of his soulmate in the grips of such righteous fury striking him as downright beautiful.

He’d never in his life loved someone as much as he did right then and it was that sobering thought that quickly brought Waylon back to his senses.

“Eddie, stop.”

Pausing, Eddie glanced at him, perhaps seeing how serious he was about the request. “Why?” he asked, sounding puzzled as he put his head to the side, Blaire’s struggles insignificant to him.

Waylon swallowed the lump in his throat, needing to reacquaint Eddie with morals he had abandoned long ago. “Because we have to be better than them. Life isn’t so cheap, not to me anyway.”

If a conscience was all Eddie needed to brave the world at large, Waylon would gladly become it. He’d keep him on the straight and narrow even if it someday killed him because he couldn’t do otherwise.

Eddie was his and he was Eddie’s until death did them part. 

Reading his face, Eddie nodded and abruptly dropped Blaire to the floor where he wheezed madly, crawling away from the pair as fast as he could.

Waylon walked over to Blaire, kneeling down next to him once he’d paused, his energy ebbing. “I could have let him Eddie kill you and he would have gladly done it. Remember that if you manage to survive this.”

“Fuck yo-"

Eddie pulled him back from Blaire when the man was gripped by an invisible force, a dark shadow swinging him violently around the large entryway, slowly killing him. Blaire's body littered the entryway in pieces seconds later, no more.

“Never mind then,” Waylon muttered in the sudden silence, his system still reeling in shock. Truthfully, he was just glad there was one less asshole in the world.

As the same figure snatched Eddie's right arm into the air and snapped it with an audible crack, the sound alone hurting Waylon, he yelled and threw his arms around Eddie's waist, trying to anchor him to the ground.

“Please, no!” Waylon cried out, gazing up at the smoky figure that hovered ghost-like in the air. “Whoever you are, whatever you may think, he's mine and I can't…I can’t bear losing him.”

His eyes burned with tears, pleading mentally as well that the apparition called Walrider listened to him. “Please.”

Waylon had never begged anyone for anything. 

Even though he had to be in pain, Eddie used his non-injured arm to rub Waylon's back. Maybe it was that display of affection that made all the difference since suddenly Eddie's ravaged limb was released, falling uselessly to his side.

Breathing out a sigh of immense relief, Waylon squeezed Eddie tightly, grateful his soulmate was still breathing air. “Thank you, thank you.”

While no words were spoken by the Walrider, Waylon got the distinct impression that no one else in the building would be receiving any mercy that night and they should get the hell out while they could.

“Eddie, we have to go,” Waylon urged when Eddie stood there, seeming dumbfounded as he cradled his broken arm against his chest. “Now.”

“Yes, Dar-" Eddie cleared his throat, then paused before changing it to, “Waylon.”

The name sent a shiver down Waylon's spine. Some of the sanity he'd regained through their bond was peeking through, showing once again that he saw Waylon as more than a body to rip into or remake. Maybe they could actually make something of themselves together after all.

But first getting out of the asylum was more important. Waylon would worry about the rest later.

His camera SD card was nestled in his pocket, the footage he’d captured enough to take Murkoff down, or at very least open the company up to numerous lawsuits. Waylon didn’t care so long as they paid for everything they had done.

The sunlight hurt his eyes when Waylon walked out the front door, Eddie visibly wincing at his side. He’d honestly thought he’d die before he ever saw another day, but had come out all the better for his experience thanks to Eddie.

His monstrous knight in bloody armor.

Aware that Eddie would need medical assistance and wondering how he’d explain everything without the threat of recommitment hanging over their heads, Waylon tugged at Eddie’s good arm, leading them towards the lone Jeep awaiting ahead on the side of the road. Almost like someone knew they’d be needing a method of escape.

While Eddie awkwardly got into the passenger seat and did his seatbelt, Waylon took the driver’s seat, uncaring of his bare feet as they touched the cold pedals.

He turned towards Eddie and smiled. “It’ll be okay, Eddie, I’ll take care of you.”

“I know,” Eddie replied warmly, responding in kind. The utter belief and trust on his part were remarkable. The last thing Waylon wanted to do was drive as he savored the sight of Eddie looking happy and loved.

Pushing down the urge for a better time, Waylon backed the car up. He gunned the engine and gladly left Mount Massive Asylum behind them.

He didn’t know what the future would bring but Waylon knew it would be all the brighter now that he’d found the piece that had been missing his whole life.

* * *

As Waylon hesitated to send the video out on Murkoff, the laptop’s screen bright before him, he felt Eddie step up behind his chair, laying a supporting hand on his shoulder.

“Let them come for us if they dare. We can take them.”

Waylon looked back, taking in Eddie’s figure, his right arm partially cast and held in a splint across the front of his chest.

It’d been two months since they’d escaped the asylum. Seeing Eddie’s bright blue eyes every day was a wonder, yet the facial scarring he’d sustained on one side of his face was permanent. Not that Eddie seemed to mind, merely satisfied to be at Waylon’s side.

Waylon had made more than a few concessions with the authorities to be here now, his soulmate free and clear of his past crimes. Still, given the chance to go back and do it all again, he’d make the same hard choices.

Focusing on the computer screen again, Waylon reached back and patted Eddie’s hand, smiling. “I know we can.”

He hit the button, sealing their fate, getting revenge, and laughed at the thought of anyone foolish enough to strike back at them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. It's my first work in the fandom and I hope you enjoyed it! :)


End file.
